


What's Mine Is Yours

by WaldosAkimbo



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Biting, Clothing, Intercrural Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 00:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16169966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaldosAkimbo/pseuds/WaldosAkimbo
Summary: Newt wakes up in Hermann's bed after he's had a little bit of a slip. It's a good thing he's not left alone for long, because the man is in love and he's deliberately going to make a mess on Hermann's nice bed if someone doesn't come to keep an eye on him.





	What's Mine Is Yours

**Author's Note:**

> For the Newmann Porn Fest, my prompt was "wearing each other's clothes/roleplaying as each other."

It wasn’t the piece of paper taped to his forehead like he was some preschooler with a note sent back from the teacher that woke him. Nor was it the foreign article of clothing he was wrapped up in that clued Newt in on the fact that this was not his beautiful bunk, this was not his beautiful wife. Nope. It was when he stretched, and his right knuckle hit the wall instead of his left that he finally cracked an eye and flinched away from the note.

“Whuh in the….?”

He patted the wall, expecting to feel one of his posters tacked up and bumped a shelf instead.

So… _not_ his room.

Newt plucked the note off his forehead, wincing as the tape was gently unstuck. He blinked and squinted and brought the note up close to see a thin, slanted phrase with a tragically thinner, slanted “H” scratched out at the bottom in lieu of a heart.

_Glasses on the table._

- _H_

“Glasses on the…”

Table. Right.

Well, okay, not right. Wall on right. Table on left.

Newt winced again as he rolled onto his side, holding his head. He saw a flash of green where admittedly way more red and yellow and, okay, green should be on his forearm, and jerked back, blinking at the sleeve. Newt patted his chest, his arms, and eventually found the oversized hood scrunched up behind his neck, the fringe tickling his ears.

“Herms,” Newt said, cracking open a smile. He brought the cuffs of the ludicrously large parka up to his nose and smelled it. He tucked his knees up so he was just a little ball of a man in the shell of faded forest green. “Fuck, you old softie.”

The glasses were, indeed, left over on the table, along with a glass of water, two Tylenol, and his cell phone, which was fully charged on the charging plate. Newt opted for the water and pain relievers, sitting up just enough so he didn’t dribble on the bed. He stretched his feet out, resting against not one or two but three large pillows, another one discarded over by the wall for a bad hip that needed to be propped up at night. He tried looking up at the bookshelves above, but couldn’t see, like, five inches from his nose, so he closed his eyes and tried to remember how he got there.

Well.

Well, okay.

Okay, Hermann brought him there, step one. Point one. Subject one, covered and done. Just. Plot the points back from there.

Well, okay.

No, okay, obviously yesterday he was out at the docks near the Shatterdome, because he had been helping bring in samples. And, like, nobody cared that it was rainy as hell. It was _the rainy season_. It was monsoon-lite, gearing up for monsoon-regular, maybe even going into her second-day heavy flow monsoon-monster-hour. Whatever. It was raining. A lot. And Newt was adamant about getting everything off the transport before they lost anything valuable. And he was running around in his sick-ass leather jacket because there was no way he was going to wear anything else. Not to mention he didn’t really _have_ anything else, unless he took one of the Jaeger Pilot’s uniforms and, uh, gross. So not his style.

So, Newt got a little wet.

So, Newt got a _little_ cold.

So, Newt got a _little exhausted holy shit they were out there for ten hours, are you daft? Are you suicidal?_

_No, Herms, I’m not suicidal. I’m just passionate about my work, okay? Back off._

He backed off. Or he didn’t back off, because even though there was a laughable absence of memories from point A—docks—to point B—Hermann’s bed—he was clearly there and had clearly brought Newt to his room to rest.

“I can’t believe you didn’t bring me to medical, dude,” Newt muttered, laying back down. He was glad, too, because he was just tired. Like, ridiculously tired, but he wasn’t sick. He wasn’t injured. Exhaustion got the better of him. He owed Herms, like, a billion favors now, but he’d get him back. He’d get him _on_ his back and then get him back. Newt hummed to himself, loosening the stupid knot of his tie and chucked it towards the foot of the bed so he could relax on Hermann’s pillows.

Honestly, the little memory lapse didn’t bother him as much as it should. It definitely should, but he’d had a few moments of, uh, for lack of a better term, bat shit blackout weirdness due to a brief episode with some mild psychotropics. Look, life’s short. Life’s weird. And life needs to be sprinkled with experimentation at a frightfully young age. It needs a few “I woke up in a tub with one boot and my lab assistant Samantha’s pants on” stories. It needs, “I climbed the theater building downtown and have star charts next to me because my pen pal loves stars and I thought it would be cool to learn more about them but the city is so fucking bright all the time, I can’t even see them, so, theater building, obviously.” It needs science and wild abandon and rock stars, dude. So, no harm no foul.

Plus, even if a freak out was warranted, Newt just turned his face into the pillow and breathed in, letting himself sink into his number one personal kink, Hermann goddamn-bastard Gottlieb. Oh, his list of fetishes was longer than his leg, but right there at the top was good ol’ Herms. Lab partner, pen-pal, stupid bitter rival at the Second Alignment Neuroscience and Drift-Demonstration Summit in New York.

They fought bitterly. They pushed each other’s buttons. They trapped each other in a lab that was whittled down to all of a miraculous two. They pushed in further. They complimented each other and then stole food out of each other’s lunch boxes because it was funny or it was petty or it was pigtail pulling at recess. They kissed after a late night after a particularly bad Kaiju attack over in LA, trying to come up with the perfect answer to stop this from ever happening again and just wringing their minds dry until they collapsed near each other and found comfort in needy lips and weary, trembling arms.

Newt turned to his side, enveloped so completely in the stupid giant parka. It was musty and had a faint oily smell to it from the cables that had been serviced in Gypsy Danger.

_What were you doing in the Jaeger bay, Herms? Oh, god, no, wait. You’re so cute._

And then there was a citrus smell buried in there, along with chalk dust and a slight mold and that musk. That Hermann smell, dry but warm but hot. Almost chlorinated, actually, but better. Newt moaned into the pillow, breathing in another sharp note of pure Hermann. He palmed his groin, as though he was going to push down his erection and pretend to go to sleep. His head _did_ still hurt, but this? This was better. Newt rolled his hips towards the mattress, using Herm’s, like, seriously stupid number of blankets as a little friction. This was so good. Oh, god, little more….

“Feeling better?”

Newt choked on a high-pitched sound, curling up underneath Herman’s parka. He tucked his face into the pillow, ignoring that it felt super hot and bright across his cheeks.

“ _Dude_ …. Fucking knock?”

“On my own door? For my own room?”

“Just….”

The bed creaked as Hermann sat at the edge, one of his perfectly large hands skating up Newt’s ankle. It made Newt shiver, letting out a soft little puff of air that would have fogged his glasses if he had been smart enough to put them on.

“Are you going to come out?”

“Come in here with me instead,” Newt offered, arching as Hermann’s fingers dragged up higher, lightly brushing his calf. Then they disappeared completely, and Newt groaned at the lack of contact. “Hey. Come back.”

When pressure and touch didn’t return, Newt lifted his head, glaring at the fuzzy blob at the foot of the bed. He stuck his hand out for Hermann, thought better, and reached over on the table—to the left, not the right; Hermann’s literal ass-backwards room was throwing him for a loop here. He bumped the empty glass, his hand flat on the table, and tapped around.

“Hey! Where’s—”

“You are remarkably blind, _liebling_ ,” Hermann said with an amused warmth in his tone.

“You’re remarkably…asshole. Give those back. I need them!”

“Mm.”

“I _need_ them,” Newt repeated, sitting up too fast and touching his head. No, right. Fucking stupid headache. He groaned as he sank back down into the pillows. He was rewarded, for what? Being miserable? Whatever, but he was rewarded with Hermann sliding his hands up Newt’s legs, rubbing strong thumbs in little perfect circles against the fabric of his jeans.

“These are too tight,” Hermann said simply, his voice echoing up from Newt’s knees. “They cut into your thighs.”

“They make my ass look great, Herms,” Newt said, stretching out to give Hermann room.

“I wouldn’t know. I can’t see it.” Hermann’s fingers caught up on a pair of belt loops, tugging slightly. “I should very much like to undress you and see.”

“Dude,” Newt whispered, already well on his way to tenting the front of his pants.

“ _Dude_ ,” Hermann repeated with a scowl.

“Oh, don’t even.” Newt pulled the parka hood up around his cheeks, folding it close to his nose and taking another deep breath. “Dr. Gottlieb, so fucking pr—”

 Newt slipped down the mattress, dragged into Hermann with a quick and clean pull. He smothered his burning face in the fringe of the hood, biting back a high-pitched whine.

“Enough, Dr. Dickwad,” Hermann grumbled.

Newt cracked out a squeaky laugh and a breathy little “what?” at Hermann’s insult, but even that was cut off as he was divested of his pants. Hermann was already unbuttoning his shirt, knocking Newt’s knee with his own to spread his legs apart. He reached up to finger that ridiculously soft mop of hair, anchored to it in his fuzzy, astigmatism-nearsighted-bullshit blindness. Dry lips planted lines up his stomach, noticeably following the outlines of his kaiju tattoo and it would make him laugh if he had air in his lungs to laugh. He was a burning line of want, just holding on.

“Arms up,” Hermann whispered. Newt dumbly lifted his arms up towards the pillows, gripping them. Hermann laughed as he reached and tugged on one of Newt’s biceps. “No. Up. Out of the coat, darling.”

“You can’t call me dickwad and darling in the same, like, minute.”

“I’m trying to undress you.”

“Try harder,” Newt said, closing his eyes as he smiled. He didn’t have to see to know the little pouty scowl, the little crinkle over his dark eyes, the little swallow that Hermann did when he was aroused and trying to be proper about everything. Newt almost stuck out his tongue, but he really didn’t want Hermann to leave him like this, so he wriggled his hips to invite Hermann to continue. Nothing happened, and Newt stretched his neck back. “Please. Please?”

“So, he does know his manners,” Hermann whispered. “Arms, darling. Up.”

Newt was more willing to behave as he was undressed, grinning a little too hard when Hermann let him slip his arms back into the preheated warmth of the parka.

“Are you just being nice because I passed out in the hallway?” Newt asked with an almost sleepy grin fixed to his face.

“I’m being nice because I like you,” Hermann answered, tracing Newt’s stubbly chin. He peeked to see Hermann’s slightly blurry face, his own glasses magnifying those brilliant big eyes of his. “These will make me sick,” Hermann admitted, his face softening anyways.

“Yeah, but they look great on you.”

“No, they don’t,” Hermann said, even if he did blush a little.

“No. Stick to your Readers, dude.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I should start adding tight corduroys and leather jackets and skinny black….” Hermann glanced away, tipping over until he came back up and wrapped Newt’s tie around his own neck, slipping the messy knot closer to his clavicles. “There. How’s that?”

“Please get naked, like, right now,” Newt whispered. He reached up to get his glasses back, but Hermann took Newt’s hand and kissed his palm. “Dude. You’re so soft.”

“Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Newt grinned again, stroking Hermann’s face. Stroking his painfully sharp jawline, his cheekbones that Newt could cut his teeth on. He stroked Hermann’s slightly-too-big ear, thumbing his earlobe, and enjoyed the tactile delight that was the fresh fringe of his undercut.

“Who’s soft now?” Hermann asked, leaning into the touch.

“Definitely not me,” Newt answered, pressing his erection up against Hermann’s thigh to prove a point.

“Vulgar.”

“Yeah, but you’re the idiot who loves me for some reason.”

“Mm.”

Hermann pulled back to shimmy out of his own slacks, tugging his ridiculous sweater vest over his head and tossing it towards the door. _Messy messy, Hermann_. _You doing that for me_?

“Now, did I say I loved you?” Hermann asked, his voice pitched up. “Because I thought—”

“Oh my _god_ , dude!”

The tie made a perfect hand hold. He could totally see why Hermann grabbed it during their more, uh, _heated_ moments. He tugged until Hermann complied, coming down to kiss him. Beautiful hands squeezed his squishy thighs and Newt groaned into Hermann’s mouth. He rubbed his ankle against Hermann’s leg, barely holding back a giggle at the edge of socks he felt. Dude was naked except for Newt’s glasses, Newt’s tie, and those stupid socks. Weirdo.

“I love you,” Newt whispered against him.

“I know,” Hermann answered back.

 _Fucking Han Soloing mother fucking b_ —

Newt squeaked like a chew toy when Hermann pushed Newt’s leg up, twisting him to his side. He hiked up the top knee, turning a blistering hot face into the pillow trapped under his arm to muffle his fractured laughter as Hermann nipped along Newton’s chest. Hermann pulled the edge of the parka away with his lips and worried the skin of Newt’s pecs until he pulled one of his nipples between his teeth.

“ _Oh_ my god.”

It wasn’t fair. He was already hard just from being surrounded by all this really good, really goddamn good essence of Hermann. And having Hermann on him, definitely. But, _fuck_ , that was a sensitive spot. Newt jerked, finding purchase by gripping Hermann’s shoulder and rocking back at the leg that was braced behind him. Hermann hissed against Newt’s skin and bit down almost painfully hard. Payback for knocking his hip, absolutely, but the pinch sparked a heat down his spine.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Newt babbled, petting Hermann’s hair. “Sorry, fuck, that’s so good, sorry.”

Hermann sealed his mouth around Newt’s nipple, circling his tongue and sucking up until he bit again, sudden, strangely painfully good. So _good_. Newt whined into the pillow, dribbling precome onto Hermann’s third favorite duvet.

Hermann reached around Newt’s hip and gripped him so he could drag his thumbpad over his slit. Newt moaned louder. People would hear. People would _talk_. People were already talking and fuck them for talking but fuuuuck, no, that was good. Newt was shaking as he tried not to rock or jerk his hips back or knock Hermann off. Hermann brushed the heel of his hand over the bright red head of Newt’s cock, spreading the mess around. He had to lean more on Newt’s shoulders and pinned him so he could reach between his legs and squeeze his balls before he came back up to swipe across him again.

“M-M-Messy,” Newt stammered into the pillow.

“Precisely, _mein Shatz_ ,” Hermann whispered against his ear before he bit the cartilage.

Hermann worked on slicking up between Newton’s thighs, alternating between rubbing Newton until he cried out and squeezing between his legs to stroke a line between his balls. Newt was biting the pillow, a wet spot of drool right next to his cheek, and his body was trembling by the time Hermann deemed him “good enough.” He pulled his hand away and tipped back, dragging his palm across the broad length of his tongue. Newt didn’t even turn back to see, just whimpering at the lack of contact.

“P…please. Please,” he whimpered. “Please, Herms.”

“I know,” Hermann cooed back gently, slotting himself up behind Newton. “I have you. I’ll always have you, darling man.”

Newt put one of the parka sleeves between his teeth and bit down, muffling his moans as Hermann situated him. He straightened out his legs and rested on his side, little whimpers escaping after every delicate, scintillating touch. One of the pillows disappeared from the top of the bed to prop up Hermann before he wrapped an arm around Newt’s torso and held him close.

“I’ll take care of you,” Hermann whispered just as the head of his cock slipped between Newt’s thighs.

Newt gasped in tandem when he pressed in tight, Herm’s prick peeking out between Newton’s legs, just underneath his own weeping cock. Fucking _Christ_ , the dude was hung, and he slipped back out without any problem.

“No matter if you’re sick,” Hermann continued, caught up in this ramble of his. Oh, god, he was rambling. He was brilliant and he was weird and he had his socks on and he was rambling. Newt’s stomach fluttered with delight.

Hermann splayed his hand flat and rubbed down Newt’s stomach. It was a gentle up and down that got closer and closer to Newt’s unflagging erection. Again, Hermann pushed himself between Newt’s thighs, starting to find a particularly good rhythm to it just as he found a good rhythm to his promises. “No matter if your tired. Or hurt. Or bloody insane.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Newt whispered against the moist fabric of the parka sleeve.

“You could go hundreds of miles away…” Hermann said, his voice starting to curl up on itself. “Across the globe, darling…I’ll still…I’ll still care for you.”

There was no goddamn right for Hermann to say these stupidly sweet things as he was fucking Newt between his legs, rutting up hard enough that if he _were_ wearing his glasses, they’d bump down his nose and off his face. Newt reached behind him and cried a little harder when Hermann snapped his hips against Newt’s. Hermann’s crooked spine was hot beneath Newt’s twitchy fingers.

“Another bloody universe couldn’t tear us apart,” Hermann whispered around a moan, his voice dropping into the place just before he reached his orgasms that Newt fucking _loved_. “Because you’re mine, darling.”

“I’m yours,” Newt repeated, not even surprised his own voice was up in the rafters, just this airy wispy thing he could barely push out. “I’m yours I’m yours. Herms, fucking touch me, please. Please, please, babe. _Please_ , oh my god!”

Herm’s hand trailed up and away and Newt grabbed his wrist, not moving him anywhere else, just holding it. He leaned over and kissed feverishly at Hermann’s arm. His teeth grazed the fine light hairs on Hermann’s arm, dragging lightly across his flesh, and before he could bite down, Hermann yanked his hand away and fisted Newt’s cock. They both rocked up towards Hermann’s hand in two good strokes before he bit his lips together instead of shouting Hermann’s name. Newt already couldn’t see, but he screwed his eyes shut when he came, thin ribbons streaking the covers and painting the edge of the parka.

Hermann pushed his messy hand down on Newt’s leg and rutted between his thighs half a dozen more times before he curled in close and bit Newt’s shoulder through his own orgasm. Newt whimpered, his nerves shocked. He breathed in and it was all Hermann. It was all just Hermann. Newt melted soon after under the contact.

Thank god he’d taken that Tylenol earlier.

Hermann eventually loosened his bite, kissing away the red marks as he pulled them carefully towards the wall. It didn’t matter where they went. This was Hermann’s room. This was Hermann’s bed. This was Hermann’s parka. This was _Hermann_ , and he was surrounded by the man. Newt was basically a puddle of water wrapped in skin, perfectly spent and perfectly content and perfectly insanely in love with this man.

“You should marry me,” Newt whispered, the words almost sticking to his tongue.

“You should sleep,” Hermann answered, stretching a long arm over to the side table to place Newt’s glasses. He slipped the tie off over his head next, dropping it over the side of the bed, before he tucked in around Newt.

“Not even gonna clean up?” Newt teased, his head a lead weight on the pillow already.

“Tomorrow,” Hermann mumbled back.

Hermann was four long limbs wrapped around Newt, which meant he was done. His chin was tucked down into the small of Newt’s back, hidden beneath the parka hood. He was spent. He was wrung out. He was here to stay. And, really, that’s all Newt needed. He just needed him here. To stay.

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

Newt clicked the light off for them, knocking the glass over, where it shattered on the ground. He winced at Hermann’s annoyed groan but twisted enough to see roughly where the top of Hermann’s head might be.

“Mazel tov,” he muttered half-heartedly, and was dragged back down onto the mattress, encased in the one thing he absolutely loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Come at me about Hermann leaving his socks on. Come on!
> 
> Ah, this was a ton of fun and thank you for reading it!


End file.
